I woke up to a cloudy day. Paul was reading the newspaper in one of the chairs, his hair tousled and top buttons of his shirt undone. He smiled when he saw that I was awake.
"Well, good morning, Elle. I was thinking I was going to have to wake you up myself if you slept much longer." He said, folding up his newspaper. "We have to leave at midday." He got up, and went to the kitchen, bringing back a few items in his hands.
"I figured that you might be here for awhile, so I went out and bought you these." He handed me a hairbrush and toothbrush.
"Oh, wow, thank you so much." I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
"We have to get ready. I'll change in the bathroom."
I went into the bedroom, shutting the door tight behind me. I didn't want Paul getting any funny ideas.
One of the outfits that I got was a cream-colored blouse and a dark blue skirt. I pulled on the tank-top I wore underneath the sweatshirt and my skirt when I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror. I couldn't see what Paul saw. The only things I saw were the bruises on my neck.
Then Paul walked in on me. Thank God I had clothes on.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Elle. I didn't know that you're up here..." Paul's brown eyes wandered to my neck. He gasped. "Elle, what happened?" His calloused hands gently brushed my neck, and I was surprised that it didn't hurt.
"I...I...it was an accident. Nothing bad." I pushed his hand away, and started to tug on my blouse.
"Elle, that looks like it hurts. Please tell me what happened." He sat down next to me on the bed as I buttoned up my shirt.
"You really don't care," I mumbled. "You're just being nice."
"That's not true. Come on, Elle. Tell me, please." He begged. How could I say no to those big brown eyes?
By not looking at them, that's how.
"I'm sorry, Paul. I just don't feel comfortable talking about it." I said, looking down at the floor.
"I-I guess that's alright. But you know that you can tell me anything, right, Elle?" He said, tilting my chin to face him. I nodded, lost in his eyes.
"But you can't tell anyone about this, Paul." I said, motioning to the bruises. "Not even the others."
He nodded too.
We were silent for a moment, and then Paul smiled. "You look nice today." I looked down at floor, blushing slightly. I thought this was an interesting remark from someone who spent more time on his hair than I did.
"I think you look better." I said. He did look very nice in his suit. He smiled too.
"You're right. I look better than everyone else," He held his head high, and smirked. Then he smiled playfully. "I'm just joking with you." He stood up.
"Come on. We're going to be late." Paul said. His hand found mine, and I think both of us were surprised for a moment. He lead me out to the car.
Once we arrived at the studio, Paul pulled me aside for a moment.
"The others might be a bit...funny with you." He warned.
"Funny with me?"
"They're going to poke fun at you, and you're going to have to take it. I would say something, but John would kill me for it."
"OK."
And Paul was right. Because the first words out of John's mouth were: "Oh, there's the animal!" George and Ringo laughed. Paul played along too.
And as the day went on, it took me every ounce of strength not to throttle him.
(But of course I could never do that, I'm such a huge fan.)
Whenever John looked over at me, he would make a face. Therefore, I made faces right back at him.
Paul asked me if I would like some coffee when they took a break. I said thanks, but no thanks. They left to get lunch, and I stayed for awhile.
I went into the studio and looked around at everything. I sat down at the piano.
I loved to play piano. I tried to remember one of Dad's favorites. I placed my hands delicately on the piano.
It wasn't a Beatles song, but it was just as thoughtful.
The screen door slams, Mary's dress waves,
Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays,
Roy Orbison singin' for the lonely,
Hey that's me and I want you only,
Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again.
I sang along to it, the song moving fast and beautifully. Hopefully the lads didn't come in. I hated performing in front of people.
You can hide 'neath your covers and study your pain,
Make crosses for the lovers,
Throw roses in the rain,
Waste your summer praying in vain for a savior to rise from these streets.
My father always used to tease me about how I would get into 'the zone' when I sang. I never really realized it until I saw my reflection in the piano.
There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away,
They haunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets.
And in the lonely cool before dawn,
You hear their engines roaring on,
But when you get to the front porch they're gone,
On the wind, so Mary climb in,
It's a town full of losers,
But I'm pulling out of here to win.
A voice pulled me out of my stupor.
"Who gave you permission to touch my piano?"
John stood right behind me. He smirked at my surprised face.
"I'm sorry...about that. I'm...just used to playing. It's a hobby." I said, getting up. I looked down at the ground and smoothed out my skirt.
His expression softened. "No, wait. You're...not bad."
I guess that was a complement coming from John Lennon. He sat down on the piano bench next to me.
"Where did you learn to play like that? And sing?" He asked, playing a few fast chords.
"My mom taught me. No one really taught me how to sing. I just found out, really." Talking about them made my heart skip a beat. What were they doing then? Were they worried about me? Did they not even know I was gone?
Another family member I missed terribly was my grandmother. She was always so nice to visit, and she loved to play old music for me. She didn't care much for The Beatles, but she absolutely loved Elvis Presley.
One of my favorite memories was on Christmas Eve with her, and she told me to tell her a story. I made up one on the spot, entertaining her with my childish mind. I could still remember the glitter of the candlelight and the shiver of the wind. We kept warming by curling up in blankets on the couch, waiting for Santa to come.
But that was a long time ago. (Or a long time in the future, if you know what I mean.)
"What kind of music do you like, Elle?" John asked, his eyes on mine.
"I like rock and roll. Buddy Holly, Elvis Presley, The Everly Brothers, The Who. Well, you don't know about The Who yet, so forget about them..." I listed. John smirked.
"You're alright, Elle."
"Thanks...?"
He laughed as the others came back in. And someone else came in with them.
Brian Epstein.
He noticed me within seconds.
"Well, I don't believe we've met before." He offered a hand. "Brian Epstein. And you are?"
"Elle Sullivan." Paul rushed to my aid. But I said 'I'm a friend' at the same time Paul said: "She's my girlfriend."
It would have been my dream come true if I wasn't trying to lie to Brian.
"Oh," He said, slightly confused. He motioned to Paul. "Can I have a word?"
They spoke quietly in the corner of the room while the others got ready again. I heard the words 'Doesn't belong' come from Brian's mouth. But then Paul said something that sounded like 'Can't be on her own.' He made it sound like I was a troublemaker.
Brian certainly didn't look happy, but he grinned at me anyway.
When The Beatles were in the middle of Please Please Me, Brian asked me: "So, Elle, where are you from?"
"Well, my family lives in America, but Paul's an old friend and they thought a trip to Liverpool would be good for me."
That was so logical sounding, Elle. Nice job.
He looked at the singing Paul for a moment, and then back at me. He couldn't understand why two perfectly good parents would ship their sixteen-year-old daughter to see an 'old family friend' who just so happened to be Paul McCartney.
Because it made oh-so perfect sense.
But, for some insane reason, he didn't question me further.
I loved watching them practice. It was like watching history in the making.
And since I wasn't alive when they were performing and doing concerts together, it was like that, without the screaming girls and claustrophobic crowds.
It was about 20:00 when the lads started to disband (pun not intended), but Brian made an announcement.
"You better pack your bags tonight, lads, and Elle, because tomorrow our train leaves for London at 11:00. Be there at 10:30." Brian said. His eyes lingered on John when he said, "And I would like you on your best behavior."
"I don't think I have a best behavior." John announced. The lads snickered.
"That's why I was looking at you."
I left with Paul when he was done talking with John.
"'Bye, animal." He told me.
"Goodbye, John. I hope the bed bugs bite."
He smirked at my attempt at being snarky.
Paul and I drove home quietly. His hand accidentally bumped mine when he was driving and I turned the other way to hide my blush. I thought about what he said in the studio.
"So, boyfriend, are you excited for the trip tomorrow?" I asked him. He smiled slightly, but then he looked a little embarrassed.
"I didn't really mean to say that you're my girl. It was just the first thing I thought of." He explained. He looked over at me. "Yes, I'm excited."
"Are you nervous? With all those people watching you? I couldn't handle that."
"Well, now I am!"
I laughed. "I'm just messing with you. You'll be wonderful."
He smiled with me.
"You know, John likes it that you stood up to him. He may not show it, but he admires that quality in girls." He told me.
"So, he likes girls that are fiery?"
"Well, maybe more...fearless."
I thought that was an interesting choice of words, considering I had been afraid of lots of things lately.
Once we arrived back in the apartment, he insisted that I took the bed, though I told him that I could take the couch. We argued for about five minutes straight, but he eventually gave up.
He wrapped a blanket around me again, but this time I didn't pretend to be asleep.
"John told me you could sing," He whispered. "And play the piano."
I nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around me.
"Can you sing? For me?" He asked. "I normally don't hear anyone else sing, besides the band."
I sat up slightly. "What do you want me to sing?"
"Anything, just none of our songs. I hear enough of that each day."
I smiled a little, thinking of a song to sing for him. It seemed so weird that it would be me singing for him, instead of his voice billowing out of my CD player.
I chose one of my grandmother's favorites, because I couldn't stop thinking about her.
Are you lonesome tonight?
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day,
When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
Is your heart full of pain,
Shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
I blushed when Paul said, "You have a lovely voice, Elle."
"Thank you."
I brushed some hair behind my ear, and in doing so I touched my neck. I winced slightly at the pain.
"Elle, please tell me what happened." Paul said, concern filling his brown eyes. "If you're worried about secrecy, I can assure you that I won't tell anyone."
I tried to avoid his gaze. I just couldn't think straight when I saw him. But then I did meet his eyes.
"You really want to know?" I whispered. He nodded, his dark brown hair flopping around on his head.
I sighed, and pulled my hair back so the bruises were exposed. I told him about the fight, and the fact that he would have killed me if my mom hadn't been there. I blinked back my tears. I had no desire to cry in front of Paul.
"I...I don't know what to say." Paul said, quietly. "I'm so sorry, Elle." He reached out to touch my hand but I moved it away. I didn't know why I was acting so distant to him. I felt like I couldn't get too close to him, or something horrible would happen.
"It's fine."
"No, it's not. He's your father. How could he do this to you?"
"He hates us. My mother and I. He said I was an accident. He said they never wanted me in the first place." I fumed. "I bet they aren't worried right now. I'm gone, right? That's what they wanted." A single tear ran down my cheek. Paul kissed it. His lips felt light and soft against my skin.
"That's not true," He whispered. "I'm sure your parents love you, and they probably are going insane looking for you right now."
"I don't know, Paul. I'd like to think that."
"Take my word for it, Elle. They love you. I..." He began. I was incredibly intrigued on what he was about to say. But then he quickly kissed my forehead and said, "Good night, Elle. Sleep well."
"Good night, Paul. Sleep well."